A Matter of Time
by bluebirdswithcheese
Summary: When Zack catches a mysterious canister and accidentally steps into Milo's shoes, Melissa is forced to crack down hard on solving Murphy's law—or else face the consequences. Meanwhile, Milo decides that the future could be a lot of fun... if future villains didn't keep trying to capture him. Like, really. What's up with that?
1. A Matter of Time

Of all the crazy, unexpected, and occasionally downright random things that happened in Jefferson G. County Middle School, Zack Underwood thought that this was probably the weirdest.

"Okay," Zack began, taking a deep breath before pointing at various objects around Mrs. Murawski's strangely intact classroom. "We have an open mixture of dangerous chemicals over a Bunsen burner, an open window on a windy day, a pile of flammable papers on the table between the burner and the window... and yet, nothing is happening."

He glanced at the girl next to him—the only other person currently at their three-seater desk—and frowned.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but not having some huge disaster before lunch is really weird."

Melissa Chase, who was probably paying a little bit better attention to their work that he was, just shrugged absentmindedly as her pen scratched away at the paper.

"Eh." She glanced at her workbook, then back to her paper, where she continued to write. "Toldja it gets boring when Milo's not around. Might as well get some work done while it's quiet."

Zack shrugged slightly in assent, though it didn't do much to shake the feeling that everything about today had been way too quiet. Even with Milo late for school, most of the time _something_ would happen.

But, oddly, nothing did.

By lunch, Zack began to get a little annoyed of being on edge all morning, particularly if nothing bad was actually going to happen. With Milo, looking over your shoulder every two seconds was a smart thing to do—without Milo, it just made a person look paranoid.

"How late is Milo usually for school?" Zack asked in curiosity as he put his lunch tray down on the table.

Melissa, who had decided to do a large portion of her homework at lunch for whatever reason (though if it was homework they'd been given today or homework that was due today, Zack couldn't tell), shrugged once more as she methodically jotted down answers.

"Either he's exactly on time, he gets here right in time to miss lunch, or he misses everything but getting assigned a project at the end of the day," she answered, pausing in her writing to glance up at the wall clock across the room. "...Or, sometimes, he doesn't show up at all. If I get my homework done now, we can go find him afterward."

Zack frowned in concern, following her gaze up to the clock. "What takes him so long?"

"A list of things way too extensive to be worth distracting me for right now. Use your imagination. Then add a stampede of animals."

Zack had to chuckle in agreement—because where Milo was concerned, that was the truth.

"Yeah, okay," he relented. "Still, hope he's all right. He didn't text us or anything."

"Nah, he texted me earlier. Somethin' about wolverines."

Zack blinked in surprise, then lowered his eyebrows in mild annoyance. "Okay, you _could_ tell me these things. Where are there even wolverines around here?"

Although her eyebrows went up cynically, Melissa kept her eyes on the paper, clearly busy working out the problem in her head. How she could be so focused on _homework_ when their best friend was who-knows-where, running from probably angry wolverines, was beyond him. Could a person get completely used to that?

"Zoo, nature preserve, Coyote Woods..." she answered, waving her pencil slightly as she listed them off. "I don't know, you can check what he texted."

Zack took a brief bite of his questionably authentic fish sticks from the cafeteria's lunch menu, then pressed the button on Melissa's phone to bring up the screen. Sure enough, a long conversation was open, though only two messages were from that morning.

 _ **Milo**_ _: probably won't make it to school till late, wolverines after me again_

 _\- Np, will save you some lunch_

Zack set the phone back down and furrowed his eyebrows, something strange just occurring to him. "That is a weirdly casual conversation."

"No weirder than usual," Melissa murmured, sounding distracted as she continued her work.

The sound of her pen scratching on the paper faded into the idle chatter of their friends around them, and Zack hummed in quiet agreement, propping his chin in his hand.

Things had been a little strange today.

So, of course, they began to get a lot stranger.

* * *

The afternoon came and went, and for the first time since Zack had arrived here in Danville, the bell rang to signal the end of a perfectly normal day of school.

Well, 'normal' was subjective. For those who were used to hanging out with Milo, it was a little bizarre. And not that Milo probably couldn't handle whatever life was currently throwing at him, but at this point, even Melissa looked a little concerned.

" _Well_ ," she remarked, taking a deep breath as they walked out of their last class, surrounded by casually chattering classmates and distinctly un-smashed locker doors. "Usually, I'd bet that Milo's phone wouldn't've exploded yet, but I've been texting him and the messages are not gettin' delivered."

"And that's normal?" Zack asked, frowning in concern as he waited for Melissa to retrieve a few things out of her locker. "Milo just not showing up sometimes? I mean, I get why he wouldn't, but... it kinda seems like we should've heard from him by now."

Melissa swung her book bag over her shoulder with one hand and shut her locker door with the other, falling into step with her friend as they trailed their classmates outside. She surveyed their surroundings for a moment, but upon not seeing anything broken or flaming or swinging haphazardly, she shrugged and frowned slightly.

"I texted Sara and the hospital, and got a negative Milo report from both of them," Melissa said, following a portion of their class as they began the trek past the line of out-of-commission school buses and back toward their section of the neighborhood. "I can ask his parents, but they usually let me know if he's with them on a school day."

Zack paused for a moment and frowned, not noticing as most of the other students filtered past him. "So do you think we should—wait, you can _text_ the hospital?"

Melissa was already several strides ahead of him, but Zack could hear the smirk in her voice. " _I_ can, yeah. They're supposed to call me if Milo's there, but y'know. Still never hurts to check."

Zack frowned as he followed, his thoughts already elsewhere. "You think he's time-traveling again? I guess Dakota and Cavendish could've picked him up."

Melissa frowned slightly and shrugged, glancing around at their oddly unchaotic surroundings. "The good news is, if he's time-traveling, he could be back anytime. The bad news is, if he's time-traveling, he shoulda been back right after he left because he can do that because he's _time-traveling_."

Zack paused, furrowing his eyebrows for a moment as he thought about this. "...Yeah, okay."

Melissa was already nearing the crosswalk, so he hurried to catch up with her, pulling his backpack further up on his shoulders. They passed the last of the Jefferson G. County school buses—a line of six of them, still smelling like nachos and plastered over with tar—which were still out of commission from the disastrous Nacho Cheese Incident of the previous week.

Melissa smirked, almost fondly, at the half-blackened buses that loomed over them as they passed.

"Yeah, on a scale of one to the Llama Incident, that was a solid eight," she remarked, very casually, as though reminiscing about a weird disaster like that was as ordinary as commenting on the weather.

Zack almost smiled. For any friend of the Murphys, it _was_ as ordinary as commenting on the weather.

"What about the Woodpecker Incident? Can't we use that as the scale? I was there for that one."

"The One-to-Llama Scale was established _long_ before the Woodpecker Incident; however, the latter scored a nine-point-one on the scale, which is by far the highest in extended craziness we've encountered since." Melissa glanced sideways at him, cracking a grin. "Besides, the Llama Incident always tops. Just because."

"I dunno; the Woodpecker thing was pretty intense. We took a shopping cart full of monkeys into SeaWorld. And then walked on stilts. Through the Everglades!"

With an air of great calmness, Melissa smirked, holding up both hands at shoulder height and forming them into what looked like llama-head shadow puppets.

"The llamas don't care," she replied matter-of-factly, making the llama puppets tilt their noses up and nod haughtily.

Zack stared at said 'llamas' for a moment, unimpressed, before shoving his hands in his pockets.

"... _Sure_ ," he replied simply, rolling his eyes. It sounded suspiciously like Melissa had picked up a new catchphrase. Ever since ' _boom_ ' had come to fruition during Milo's heated-salt-block-in-an-umbrella-full-of-water trick, she'd been subtly hunting for a new one... though 'subtly' was probably being generous. "Should we split up and look for Milo, then?"

Melissa nodded as she dropped her hands, but furrowed her eyebrows in thought. "Yeah, I think we should. Lemme call his dad first, though, in case he knows anything."

"Won't he be at work?"

Melissa simply shrugged, scrolling through her phone for the number.

"Nah. It's Columbus Day, right? He should be off today."

* * *

As a matter of fact, it was not Columbus Day, and Martin Murphy was not off work.

Across town, Martin was posing atop a radio tower for a selfie, holding his phone at arm's length as he adjusted the angle.

He squinted to see the screen as he held it, trying to keep himself in frame while not being blinded by the glare of the sun off the glass.

"Darned reflection... okay, that's better. Three, two, o—"

The phone buzzed loudly in his hand as it began to ring.

Martin jumped, fumbling for a grip on the phone, but failing to grab it before it bounced out of his hands and plummeted downward.

He hung onto his safety rope, wincing as he watched the phone diminish into a black speck as it sped toward the street below. The sound of breaking glass echoed upward, and a car alarm began to wail.

"Uh..."

Martin stared for a moment.

"...Hope that wasn't important," he muttered, hesitating for a minute before awkwardly returning to work.

* * *

" _The number you are trying to reach is no longer in service. Please try agai—"_

Melissa frowned, hanging up the call.

"Well, _that_ worked," she remarked dryly, tapping a few things on the screen.

Zack paused a moment to wave his arms outward in exasperation. "It was just ringing a second ago!"

Melissa shrugged. "Yeah, just means his phone got destroyed. Nothing new. Hang on, I'll try Sara again."

* * *

"Level 537 of the Dr. Zone Files V-Box 360 game: Cerebroids, you're going down!" Sara Murphy yelled as her virtual character plunged into the dark cave on the television screen. "Time Ape, light our path!"

One of Sara's equally Dr. Zone-obsessed friends, Wally, replied ominously, "May the face of time help us in this dire hour!"

He pressed a button on his controller, causing Time Ape's clock face to glow brightly, illuminating the cavern—and lighting up the faces of the three _Dr. Zone_ fans who had gathered at Kris's house, bathing them and their multiple empty snack bowls in a pale whitish glow.

Sara grinned in relief. "Look! The door! We came the right way after all."

"We have come to the lair of Cranius, lord of the Cerebroids," Kris said dramatically as several creepy-looking alien monsters appeared out of the shadows at one end of the screen. "Behold them!"

"Wh-What? Nooo!" Wally panicked as a Cerebroid attacked him, draining his health bar and kicking him out of the game. "Watch out, he's got my power-ups!"

"Go back to your tunnels, Cerebroids!" Sara exclaimed as she and Kris plunged forward, beating back the Cerebroids with an assortment of hits, spin-kicks, and weaponry fire. "Take that!"

Suddenly, an enormous, brain-headed monster exploded out of the iron double doors, wielding a massive scepter.

" _Nooo!"_ Sara wailed, as the giant monster swung at the onscreen Dr. Zone, his staff hitting the character and slamming him against the wall. "Cranius the Great has come!"

Absorbed in the epic space battle that ensued, she didn't even notice her phone ringing.

* * *

Melissa put away her phone, looking a bit miffed. "I... _probably_ wouldn't worry about Milo. He's tough; he can handle himself. We can stop by his house and ask about him when we get there."

"Yeah, okay," Zack replied reluctantly. "As long as he's not time-traveling, I guess. Let's just hope he keeps a hold of his backpack this time."

Absentmindedly, Zack swung down his own backpack to get his water bottle out of it. His bottle was there in its usual spot, which was good—but unfortunately, his largest textbook was missing.

"Hey, wait—I must have left my math book in class."

Melissa smirked. "Who's the forgetful one today?"

Zack raised one eyebrow, not amused. "Uh-huh. And while I'm there, I'll pick up your math book, which you inevitably forgot."

Melissa blinked, then slung down her backpack to begin quickly rummaging through it. "Oh, shoot..."

Grinning to himself, Zack turned and jogged the short distance back to the school, quickly entering just as the last of the students were filtering out. He headed down the hallway, past the perfectly-functioning water fountain (now _that_ was weird, even on a Milo-less day), and slipped back into their math classroom.

A half-unpacked janitorial cart was parked off to one side, and a mop was leaning against one of the desks, but the room appeared eerily empty. The school's mysterious janitor, Fred, had probably been cleaning before Zack had arrived, though how the man could disappear at a moment's notice was something Zack still couldn't figure out.

After quickly snatching up Melissa's math book (as well as her pen, her calculator, and a book on physics theory she'd apparently been reading during class), he glanced over at his own book, which was... lying _under_ his desk?

 _How'd it get down there? Seems like I would've noticed if I'd knocked a heavy textbook off..._

Zack frowned in bewilderment, but crouched down and picked it up. It looked unharmed—which was nice, considering that this was Milo's classroom—but... something looked different about it.

 _What's sticking out of the top?_ Zack stood up and flipped the book open, confused. _I don't think I used a bookmark..._

In fact, he knew that he hadn't. This made his discovery even more bewildering—a scrap of paper he didn't recognize had been jammed between the pages.

 _Meet me in the park at 3:36 PM._

 _DON'T BE FOLLOWED_

 _DON'T BE LATE_

The note wasn't signed, addressed, or dated. But considering he had been using his math book roughly an hour beforehand, Zack couldn't imagine that he could have completely missed the note if it had been placed there before.

... _Did someone_ just _put this here? I was using this book an hour ago!_

"I see you have come to retrieve your book," a wise-sounding voice spoke up from behind him.

Zack jumped, whirling around to face the source. To his surprise, it was the school janitor, _in person_ , who now held a bucket of clean mop water.

"The Great Key-Keeper!" Zack exclaimed, wide-eyed. "I mean, uh, Mr. Fred. Did you write this?"

The Asian man smiled, tilting his head in a sagely greeting as he set down his bucket. "Hello, young one. No, I am afraid I did not."

"Did you see anybody else come in here, then? Because this is like... borderline kind of creepy."

The janitor shook his head. "I did not. However, both the students and the Keepers may enter this room after school has finished."

Zack frowned, too wrapped up in his thoughts to question the man's words. "Three thirty-six is in, like, fifteen minutes..." he murmured in bewilderment, turning the paper over. "I'd barely have time to _get_ to the park."

Fred's words finally registered with him, and he blinked in surprise.

"Wait, did you say ' _the Keepers'?_ Plural? There more of..." Zack trailed off upon realizing that the room was empty. Even the janitor's cart had disappeared. "...you? Ugh."

A moment passed, and door swung back open. Fred walked back in, heading to the corner of the room to grab a roll of paper towels he'd apparently set on a side table and missed during his sudden exit.

"Excuse me," the greying man apologized, picking up the roll. "I nearly forgot this."

Zack shook his head briefly, trying to clear it. The Great Key-Keeper was _here;_ he had to ask a few questions before the guy disappeared again... "So, wait, what do you mean by _'the Keepers'?_ Did someone else like you write this note? ...Was it the cafeteria lady?"

Fred tucked the paper towel roll under one arm and regarded Zack in a sagely manner. "All will be explained in the fullness of time," he answered mysteriously—which in reality wasn't much of an answer.

Honestly, Zack had as much respect for the Great Key-Keeper as the next kid did. But was an actual answer _really_ too much to ask for?

"When?" Zack pressed, annoyance creeping into his tone.

"Soon enough," replied the janitor with a small, mysterious smile. "It is only a matter of time."

All these new developments were whirring through his brain—the mysterious note, the _don't be followed_ part which honestly creeped him out a little, and the school janitor being way too enigmatic for Zack's taste—when the door swung open again.

This time, Melissa stuck her head in, meeting Zack's gaze with a curious expression.

"Yo, Zack, a hippopotamus get you again?" she asked, stepping inside after seeming to notice all of her things he was carrying.

Zack rolled his eyes. That had been _one_ time.

"Ha ha, very funny," he retorted, now annoyed for a slightly different reason.

His eyes fell back on the scrap of paper he held. Melissa liked extracurricular, sciencey things like handwriting analysis, didn't she?

"...Hey, can you come look at this?"

Melissa blinked in bewilderment, walking over to peer at the note that he held.

"I came in here and found this in my book," Zack explained, and Melissa frowned uncertainly at the eerie message. "The Great—I mean, Fred the janitor said he didn't know who put it there."

"The Great Key-Keeper was here?" Melissa asked, looking up and glancing around the room in surprise.

"Yeah, he's right—"

Zack looked up to where Fred had been standing. The room was empty, void even of the several supplies that had been left last time.

"—not there," Zack finished, rather flatly. "Okay, seriously. How does he even _do_ that?"

Melissa shrugged. "My money's on teleportation. Here, let me see that."

She snatched the note out of his hands, furrowing her eyebrows slightly as she read it.

"That looks... _kinda_ like Milo's handwriting?" she remarked uncertainly as she inspected the paper. "...Except it's more blocky, and that's not how he writes his t's."

"You know how he writes his t's?" Zack repeated, one eyebrow raised. Melissa ignored him, flipping the paper over and back again.

"...He usually can't write in pen, though. The pens just explode." She frowned, staring a it a moment longer before handing it back to Zack. "And there's no ink blots, smoke stains, or teeth marks on it, sooo... I have no clue. Why wouldn't someone just sign their name?"

Zack shrugged helplessly. "To make it more creepy than it already is?"

Melissa studied the note for a moment longer, gears clearly turning in her brain. Finally, she glanced up at him, a hesitant frown on her face.

"You... wanna check it out, then? Milo's apparently missing again—I called his mom and she doesn't know where he is either—and this could be a clue, I guess. I've seen weirder."

"Yeah..." Zack answered, the more worried the more he thought about it. "I guess we should. We'd better stop and get our bikes on the way, though."

"Yeah, we'd better. Looks like we've got another mystery that makes life worth living."

Zack shrugged in agreement, still not quite able to shake the uneasy feeling in his stomach. "Yeah, but seriously. I'd be a lot more comfortable meeting someone in the park if I knew who _they_ even were."

"Well, only one way to find out."

They exchanged semi-confident smirks. Then, Zack grinned, holding out the multiple items of hers that he'd tucked beneath his arm.

"Oh, and here's all the stuff you forgot that you forgot."

"Thanks," Melissa snorted dryly, snatching her things and putting them in her backpack. She slung her backpack back into her shoulders, and pair hurried to jog out of the school.

As they exited the front doors, Melissa seemed to notice Zack's apprehension. She offered him a somewhat reassuring smile.

"By the way, I bet one of us will find him. Ten bucks to the winner. I'm actually feeling like we won't need a musical montage this time."

"Deal," Zack replied with a shrug, because even though the chances of winning a bet against Melissa were more than slim, it at least meant that someone would _probably_ find Milo. It would be well worth ten dollars if the world didn't get taken over by sentient pistachio trees again. "And you felt that too? Good, I'm not crazy."

"Debatable, but yep," Melissa replied, glancing forward at the vast, summery neighborhood that stretched out before them, and the multitude of brightly-colored skyscrapers that towered off in the distance.

A small smile tugged at her face.

"Welcome to the Tri-State Area."

* * *

 _A/N: Welcome to A Matter of Time! I'd hoped to get this posted in celebration of the two-year anniversary of Milo Murphy's Law—but things came up, so it's a couple days late. Hopefully it'll still make for a nice new addition to the archives!_

 _This idea started out about a year ago as the simple question 'what if Zack had to step into Milo's shoes?'. But, as you'll find out, it grew into something_ much _bigger._

 _(Big enough to warrant outlines for two sequels and a grand Phineas and Ferb crossover arc, even. But I'm getting ahead of myself—this story comes first!)_

 _This is a collaborative work between my brother (who has most of these ideas) and I (who writes them down in way too much detail). A big thanks to him for coming up with this story, and for letting me go overboard helping flesh it out! I love character development, but currently am not great at thinking up action scenes—whereas Cheese is excellent at forgoing excessive details to write what's happening. Together, we have a lot of fun telling the interesting stories we dream up!_

 _Melissa's line at the end was originally at the midpoint of this chapter, if you can believe it. I figured it'd be better to split it into two, because a 7.5k chapter was a liiittle much. Not sure about an updating schedule just yet—we're still working out the ending of the outline for this story—but the next chapter just needs some polishing up, and hopefully subsequent updates will be out as soon as possible._ _ _In the meantime, we'd love to hear what you think! Comments are always very appreciated.__

 _Tune in next time, when we see the rest of Zack's adventure trying to figure out what happened to Milo... and things getting just a little more mysterious along the way._

 _Hope you enjoy this crazy ride as much as we do!_

 _-Bluebird (and Cheese)_


	2. Lost and Found

_S. JEFFERSON PARK_

Zack and Melissa coasted their bikes as quickly as possible beneath the wrought-iron archway above the park's entrance. They hopped off and rolled their bikes into the bike rack, glancing around as they unbuckled their helmets.

"What's the time?" Zack asked as he unbuckled his helmet and hung it on his handlebars.

Melissa pulled out her phone and squinted at it. "...Man, the sun _is_ bright. I've got three thirty-four."

Zack frowned slightly as he looked around the park, trying to spot anyone who looked... well, like they would write foreboding notes and leave them in kids' textbooks. There had been a few normal-looking people milling around at the edges of the park, but for the most part, no one was in view.

Zack glanced at his friend, feeling increasingly uncertain as to what he was getting into.

"Um... maybe you should stay in the background," he suggested. "The note sounded like one of those ominous ' _come alone_ ' warnings."

Melissa collapsed into a nearby park bench, grabbing a discarded newspaper and unfolding it so it hid her face. "There. Now you came alone."

Zack grinned. "Perfect."

Trying to look as casual as possible, Zack put his hands in his pockets and started walking nonchalantly down the winding sidewalk. It was only when Melissa snorted behind him that he realized how silly he probably looked, so he merely sent her a playful glare and took his hands out of his pockets, breaking into a relaxed jog and continuing until he was at least somewhat out of sight.

Zack glanced around the park, taking a brief moment to admire the nearly summery day. The trees towered at intervals overhead, the sun glinted off the surface of the pond, and a robin perched itself on a lamppost and began to warble a song. A swirling blue portal opened on the sidewalk and spewed out a few stumbling figures, and— _what?_

Zack did a double take.

Sure enough, their backs still lit up blue by the flash of light, were the sprinting figures of Dakota, Cavendish, and... _Milo?_ They were running hard, with Milo tailing them and clutching a black object to his chest.

"Kid, what's the plan now?!" Dakota yelled over his shoulder as he ran, already sounding like he was panting. They didn't seem to notice Zack, and were seriously sprinting down the sidewalk. Zack couldn't help but wince. Hopefully none of them would end up faceplanting on the concrete.

"Why are you asking _him_ and not me?!" shouted Cavendish, managing to sound offended even while shouting over the ominous rumble of engines that filtered out of the now-wavering portal.

Dakota flailed his arms out to the side as he ran, which looked a bit comical. "I don't know; just kinda seems like he's got more experience _running for his life!"_

"Close the portal! _Quickly!"_

As Dakota hopped on one foot, fumbling to get something out of his... _shoe_ , apparently, Zack shook his head quickly and waved to the three. "Uh, hey! Guys! What's happening?!"

The time-travelers and Milo faltered in their strides as they turned to spot Zack, but their surprise only lasted a moment. Milo stared, almost desperately, catching Zack's gaze with a weirdly urgent look on his face.

"ZACK, GO LONG!" Milo shouted, before doing a little hop to narrowly miss slipping on someone's abandoned skateboard.

Zack froze in confusion, only to see Milo reel back and hurl the container into the air. It was sailing straight towards him—no, wait, sailing so fast it was going to go _way_ past him.

...Oh, so it was a football pass. Yeah, he could handle that.

By instinct, he was already barreling down the field. The black container was sailing roughly in his direction, but it was veering to his left, in a high arc that aimed it right toward the street that ran alongside the park.

Zack reached the street, and would've been there to catch it in time, had not several semi trucks sped by out of nowhere, blaring their deafening horns only inches from his face. He screeched to a halt on the curb, just in time to feel the wind rushing off the trucks—part of it almost blew him backward, and part of it almost blew him forward, under the truck. He stumbled backward as fast as he could, heart pounding at the close call, and squinted as he tried to see the container.

There it was! It bounced off the top of one of the semi trailers, spinning through the air as it ricocheted off to the side. Zack almost ran toward it, but was forced to back up further when one of the trucks began to swerve around on the road, air shrieking out of a rapidly-deflating tire.

All this chaos—this _Murphy's law_ —prompted Zack to look over his shoulder, fully expecting Milo to be behind him, with Cavendish and Dakota following to join the chase.

Except... there was no one in sight. No portal, either.

But then what was that sound in the distance, like a high-pitched wind, then a mechanical rumbling? _Another_ portal opening?

A flash of electricity startled Zack into forgetting about this for a moment, and he whipped his head back around just in time to see the canister strike the transformer on a telephone pole, sending a shower of sparks everywhere. Beneath the pole, Coach Mitchell froze for a moment, staring up with very small pupils at the dented metal.

"Easy there!" the coach called awkwardly, chuckling and taking a few cautious steps away from the broken transformer. "...Uh, I'm just gonna awkwardly edge away from that."

The container hit the roof of another semi truck—why were there so many trucks all of the sudden? Ugh—and caught some of its momentum, bouncing off and flying right over Zack's head, flipping end over end as it arced down the street.

Zack grimaced in exasperation, turning on his heel and keeping an eye out for traffic this time. _O-kay, I hope this thing is important!_

He stayed on the sidewalk as he bolted down the field, mentally estimating where the canister would be hitting next, when—

"He's at the forty yard line! The thirty! The twenty!" Coach Mitchell roared, leaping up on his toes with eyes wide in anticipation. "I haven't seen a play like this since 1984!"

"WHO ARE YOU ANNOUNCING THIS TO?!" Zack yelled, scrambling to double back as the canister bounced off a nearby streetlight.

"DON'T PAY ATTENTION TO ME! I'M NOT A RECURRING CHARACTER! JUST GO, GO, GO!"

"I don't know what you're talking abou—AAH!"

The canister smashed into a row of plastic trash cans—apparently with enough force to knock them over like dominoes—before bouncing off and flying straight toward Zack, almost hitting him in the face.

He let out a surprised shriek that he wasn't exactly proud of, ducking just in time. The canister ricocheted off a signpost and flew out into the street, where it chipped up some asphalt as it bounced, somehow managing to not break open.

" _Zack, car!_ " Melissa's voice yelled from somewhere behind him.

While grateful for the warning, Zack still sighed bitterly as a speeding car swerved to miss the canister, barely clipping it with the corner of its front bumper and sending it soaring once again. Was this _ever_ going to end? Milo was obviously still close nearby, but where was he?

Speaking of which, he had definitely earned some payment for trying to catch this crazy football pass. "You owe me ten dollars!" he yelled to Melissa.

"So you found Milo?"

"You didn't see that portal opening?!"

He could almost hear her annoyed glare. "If I had, I _probably_ wouldn't be asking! Listen, there was something weird about that newspaper!"

Zack didn't have time to ponder what she meant by that. Huffing for air, he chased the careening canister once more, only for it to slam into a fire hydrant, which promptly bent, releasing a single jet of water which sent the gizmo rocketing skyward.

 _This doesn't make sense!_ Zack thought, exasperated, as he wheeled around and ran back the way he came. What sort of weird extension of his friend's condition could cause _this_ much chaos when he wasn't around?

Finally— _finally_ , as if the universe sensed that he'd had enough of this crazy chase—Zack ran up to a stop sign that the canister seemed to be arcing toward, then braced his back against its pole, reached into the air, and...

"Oof!"

...caught the surprisingly heavy canister squarely against his chest.

 _Touchdown! Yeah, I'm the man!_

Zack allowed himself to smirk proudly, turning the canister over in his hands. It was a dark, glossy black, and made of surprisingly sturdy metal, with several dials and gauges set in it. There were plenty of dings and scuffs on it after that big chase, though one side seemed to be imprinted with a label of some sort.

As he studied it, Zack turned around absentmindedly... though at that moment, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted movement.

By instinct, he looked up to make sure it wasn't more danger coming his way.

It certainly didn't _seem_ to be.

A man he didn't recognize was walking down the sidewalk toward him at a weirdly purposeful pace. He didn't look directly _at_ Zack, but he never looked directly away from him, either.

The man was dressed very... normally. Almost weirdly so. There wasn't a feature about him that didn't look like it belonged in this exact year in Danville. With his dull green hoodie and jeans, he looked almost just like half a dozen other plain-looking people who so often milled through the streets of the Tri-State Area.

Zack frowned slightly.

 _Okay, that guy's trying way too hard to look normal. Maybe he's the one who wrote the note?_

He glanced over to where Melissa had been. However, she was nowhere to be seen.

Zack's frown deepened. ... _Maybe she saw him too? And ducked out of the way? The note did say to come alone..._

He probably would've been concerned if he'd had the time to be. He looked back at the mysterious guy, only to discover that another inconspicuously-dressed person—a woman—had joined him. She wore a casual business outfit and carried a plain, rectangular purse. She fell into step with him in a professional manner.

Another man stepped out of an alleyway, wearing a purple polo shirt, with a gray backpack that was slung over one shoulder.

There were definitely more of them than Zack could take on by himself, if he needed to.

And his opinion, all three of them looked way, _way_ too disguised to be innocent civilians.

 _O—Okay, now what? What should I do?_

Thinking fast, Zack decided to perform the age-old, tried-and-true _are-you-following-me_ test.

He took off running.

And they took off chasing him.

* * *

Usually, Melissa liked to consider herself a very focused individual.

Honestly? She had to be. A person couldn't hang out with Milo Murphy and still maintain the highest grade point average in class by getting distracted easily.

However, her self-appointed job of yelling " _Car!"_ whenever Zack nearly got himself hit by one was put on hold when _something_ —a smallish, round object—hit her in the back with a dull thud.

Confused, she whirled around to face whatever had been thrown at her—not to mention whoever had thrown it. To her bewilderment, the object that had bounced off of her and was now rolling away on the ground was... a _peach?_

"Who would throw a _peach?_ " she murmured, frowning as she crouched down to pick it up.

Something rustled in the bushes.

Her head snapped up, and she stared motionlessly, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. From somewhere behind her, behind the bushes she'd crouched down in front of, the sound of several people's feet pounding the sidewalk came from the street Zack had been running around on. Still, she didn't dare move—if only so she wouldn't miss it if the noise came again.

A small shuffling noise, like that of ruffled paper, came from a short distance away.

Curious, but hesitant, Melissa waited for the running footsteps behind her to pass out of earshot before she stood up. She frowned, gingerly making her way toward the latest noise.

A few yards away, on the ground at the base of a tree, lay another piece of paper—a note, perhaps, or a newspaper clipping. A rounded object had been placed on it to keep the wind from blowing it away.

At first she thought the paperweight was a strange rock, but no, it was another peach. Her frown deepened as she approached, and when she reached the spot, she cautiously glanced around.

The branches of the trees overhead creaked and rustled slightly in the breeze. No one seemed to be nearby—at least not anymore—so Melissa pocketed the first peach she'd found, and bent down to pick up the paper.

It was a newspaper clipping, printed on the same impossibly thin, bright white paper as the other newspaper she'd found. It was a very short article, no more than a paragraph-long blurb, and Melissa seriously doubted it had been anywhere close to front-page news.

At the top, it showed a small photograph of a metal chamber that appeared to be shaped like an enormous, structurally-reinforced ring.

 _TRI-STATE METROPOLIS: TimeLabs, Inc. has purchased a toroidal plasma fusion chamber from CERN's closing Geneva center. The unit was sold as "for non-nuclear experimental purposes only" and is in need of repair._

Melissa's eyebrows furrowed, and she reread the clipping.

If there was one thing she would bet on for certain, it was that neither of the newspapers she'd found today were from the past _or_ the present—and that only left one other option.

Her head instinctively jerked back up at the sound of distant yelling.

* * *

Zack fled for what he certainly hoped wasn't his life.

A glance over his shoulder told him that his three pursuers were easily gaining on him. An exhausted middle schooler couldn't be expected to outdistance these guys, who were obviously extremely fit—even if that exhausted middle schooler _weren't_ carrying a heavy steel container.

He suddenly felt very aware of its weight in his hands—and the weight of the fact that whatever it was, it was probably very important not to lose it. Milo was counting on him.

And Zack wasn't about to let him down.

The steel of the canister he was clutching suddenly felt staticky, almost electric. He felt his hair stand up—even on the back of his neck—and he nervously looked over his shoulder.

At that exact moment, he heard the faint sound of the woman's phone beginning to ring. The woman faltered in her stride as she whipped a plain black cell phone out of her pocket.

"Can't it wait?" she demanded quietly, one hand cupped around the front of the phone's microphone to shield it from the wind. "Look, I'm busy—yes, but I've told you I honestly don't care about the company— _ugh_ —"

The next time Zack looked back, the woman had stopped chasing him, instead opting to glare after him from the street corner while she continued her inopportune business call.

But something was off.

...Somehow, the young guy with the backpack had disappeared. The guy with the hoodie was gone, too. They wouldn't give up so quickly, would they? Where had they gone?

Zack looked straight ahead again to see where he was going, and immediately stumbled to a halt.

The hoodie guy had evidently ducked away in order to cut Zack off from in front. He was now only a few yards in front of Zack, with his hands in his jacket pockets in an ominously casual manner.

"It isn't _polite_ to run away with things that don't belong to you," the guy said in a low, plain voice. It was creepy—he even sounded incredibly normal. "Mind if we have that back?"

Zack felt a staticky sensation from the canister again.

The man took one ominous step toward Zack... and then stepped on an unfastened manhole cover, which flipped around like a giant coin and promptly dumped him down into the sewer.

" _AHHHhhh_ —" Faint yelling could be heard as he fell, followed by a large splash. "— _Oh, ew! Why can't it be as clean down here as it is in the movies?"_

Footsteps suddenly picked up right behind him, and Zack yelped, breaking into a sprint to avoid a hand that reached out to grab him by the back of his shirt. The young guy with the backpack had reappeared, and he was _way_ too close for comfort.

Fortunately, the guy didn't try to keep up, exactly—a quick glance over his shoulder told Zack that he was merely following again, now seeming as though he were simply observing the passing buildings instead of watching Zack.

It was sneaky—but also a very welcome break from all this running.

Zack took advantage of this to slow down a bit and try to calm his pounding heart. Adrenaline and football practice only helped a person sprint so far. Being friends with Milo helped more than either of those—but he was _still_ running out of steam.

He stayed at his slower pace for a few more moments... just until he reached the next block. Then, he broke into a run, duckingaround the corner and bolting past the next several buildings. He was in the fringes of an older district of town now, and closely-packed, aging brick businesses towered over him as he darted by.

His mental gauge was telling him that the guy chasing him would be turning the corner any second.

 _Where should I go? Gotta hide; there has to be somewhere to hide around here..._

Evidently, these businesses were old enough that they had long since been closed down. The doors all had large, rusting padlocks on them, which ruled out the option of hiding indoors, at least without Milo to help the locks or windows break down a little faster.

But there _was_ an alleyway ahead.

Now, Zack knew for a fact that no book or television character had ever avoided being cornered by their pursuers in an alleyway. There was a weird abundance of dead-end alleyways in those types of situations.

But he also suddenly understood one thing for certain—that sometimes, those characters didn't have a choice.

He ducked inside.

* * *

Zack sank back against the cold brick wall of the alleyway, breathing hard.

He had hidden around the far side of an old dumpster, somewhat concealed behind a row of trash cans. Hopefully he was hidden well enough in the shadows—because from where he crouched, peeking out from between two cans, he could see his last remaining pursuer enter the alley.

The blond guy with the purple shirt paused after walking a few feet into the alleyway. He glanced around, no readable expression on his face, before walking further into the alley—and coming uncomfortably close to Zack's hiding spot.

The man adjusted his backpack slightly as he walked. The strap moved a bit to the side, revealing a logo on his shirt.

The logo was the silver outlines of a thick ring, with circular lines inside it to give perspective, as if they were thin stripes around a clear life preserver. It looked like a sci-fi diagram of a donut, to be honest.

It was then that Zack decided he was _way_ too close to this guy, because he could read the initials beneath the logo fairly easily— _TTL._

The man paused.

Zack shrank backward slightly into the shadows, having no idea whether the guy would be able to see him through the loose cluster of trash cans. He made a small shuffling noise as he moved, and immediately froze and winced, squeezing both eyes shut as he waited to find out if the man had heard.

There were no more sounds after that. Tentatively, Zack opened one eye.

The man wasn't looking at him, thank goodness. However, he was surveying the alley with a careful deliberateness, all the while tilting his head with the air of a curious tourist simply glancing around.

All in all? These people were weirdly _normal_. Maybe Zack was being paranoid, but... he was beginning to wonder if they hadn't been trained to act that way.

"Hey, kid? Are you in here?" the man asked, his voice so altogether _normal_ that it sounded very, very wrong. His tone was friendly and gentle, and he looked around the alleyway in what certainly appeared like genuine concern. "It's not safe here, you know."

Zack pressed his back harder against the brick wall. _Yeah. I know_.

The young man continued, affecting a casual demeanor as he swung one foot over the other to turn around.

"You're a careful guy, right? You don't _want_ to get hurt. Especially when you don't have to be."

That... was true. Nobody _wanted_ to get hurt if they didn't have to be.

"You wouldn't want to be stuck with anything _dangerous_ , would you?"

Aside from Milo? No, he wouldn't. One disaster-causing element in his life was plenty, as far as he was concerned.

A large, gray raccoon that was sitting beside him shook its head in agreement.

It also startled Zack.

"AAH!" Zack yelped in surprise, knocking over a trash can in his attempt to scramble away.

Just as quickly, he froze.

He was now crouched in plain sight of the guy who'd been following him. Zack swallowed hard.

"There you are," the man remarked softly. He looked at Zack, a strangely blank, friendly look in his blue eyes.

Zack couldn't help but shudder. It was like a _background extra_ had turned evil.

...Not that he thought of the random people who milled around town as background extras. That would be a little rude.

The guy smiled gently and began walking toward Zack.

Zack quickly stood up and took a few hurried steps backward.

"Um, any particular reason you're chasing me and this is seeming _really ominous_ right now?" Zack asked, voice squeaking slightly.

The guy didn't answer. He merely smiled and took another step forward, one hand outstretched.

"Oh, don't worry," he said, which somehow managed to make Zack a lot more worried. "Why don't you just hand that over?"

Zack gulped and took another step backwards.

His back hit the dead-end wall of the alleyway that was there because _of_ _course_ it was a dead-end alleyway, _why not_.

And all of a sudden, the man's pleasant demeanor changed.

His face darkened, and he stalked quickly toward Zack, eyeing the canister. Zack felt all the blood drain from his face.

"H-Hey, look..." Zack laughed weakly as the man approached. "Maybe we can, like... just work this out? Preferably without me getting injured or losing this thing? I'll have ten dollars I can give you in a minute..."

"There _is_ no replacement for that. We'll have it—one way or another."

Zack had never felt particularly brave in the face of danger. That was probably why, when this creepily ominous background extra took one more creepily ominous step toward him, he winced, wishing feebly that he had some way to call for help.

The guy frowned—in a weirdly unmemorable fashion—and reached toward Zack, when...

"HEY, YOU!"

A _peach_ suddenly flew out of nowhere, hitting the guy on the shoulder and bouncing off.

Zack and his pursuer both whirled to look for the source of the attack, wide-eyed.

To their surprise, the silhouetted figure of Melissa stood at the entrance to the alleyway, holding her phone in her hand.

She glared at the guy with the backpack, shaking the phone by her ear to emphasize its presence there.

"Excuse me, pal," she said irritably, putting her free hand on her hip, "but I've got the police on the phone. What do you want me to tell 'em?"

The man stared at her for a moment, wide-eyed. His eyes narrowed, but even after several long moments, he didn't reply.

 _Smart thing to do, if you don't want your voice recorded_ , Zack thought subconsciously.

"Nothing?" Melissa countered, raising her eyebrows in a patronizing manner. She took a few steps toward them. "Okay, sure. Since you _clearly_ weren't trying to kidnap my friend there or hurt him in any way, it won't be a problem for you to back off, will it?"

The guy glared, but didn't make another move toward Zack. in fact, he stepped aside, albeit just slightly.

Melissa smiled, with such polite and utterly fake charm that Zack almost snickered. She was handling this situation _well._

"That's great. Thank you. It'll be okay if you let him _get out of there now, Zack_ , won't it?"

Zack blinked at her words for a second, but once they registered, he didn't need to be told twice. He bolted out of the alleyway with barely a glance over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't being lunged after.

The backpack guy simply watched him leave, his grey-blue eyes boring into him with a strangely serious intensity.

It sent a shiver down Zack's spine, even as he hurried around the corner and sprinted a short distance away. Not too far—he was still within earshot of Melissa giving the backpack guy a polite, snarky farewell—but far enough that he felt relatively safe, given the circumstances, and could slump against a stop sign in relief.

 _Geez_ , he thought, waiting a moment for his heart to stop pounding. That was... kind of terrifying. Especially without Murphy's law to explain why any of it was happening.

 _What is with this canister, anyway?_

As soon as Melissa caught up, he was going _straight_ to Milo's house. He knew that much. Maybe they'd figure some answers out there. ...Or else he was going home, where it at least _felt_ safe.

Was Melissa even coming? He was going to be worried for her safety if she was still back there smart-mouthing the guy.

Zack turned around to look back the way he'd come... only to come nose to nose with a llama, who brayed loudly in his face.

"AHH!" Zack yelped in surprise, jumping and dropping the canister before he could register what he was doing.

 _Crack_.

Zack opened one eye and ventured a tentative look down, the random stray llama already forgotten.

 _I am not the man..._

The canister's lid had broken open slightly on the pavement, its metal hinges now twisted a bit to the side. Nothing seemed to be visibly escaping it, however, so Zack sighed tiredly at himself and leaned down to pick it up.

He grabbed it and stood back up fairly quickly—quickly enough, in fact, that he didn't register it until it was too late.

 _BZZT!_

He didn't hear the noise, exactly—but he certainly _felt_ it. _Something_ discharged from the canister, staticky and electric, making his body jolt sharply, as though he'd been shocked.

And just like that, it was over. Zack wasted no time in dropping the canister again, his eyes wide and heart pounding painfully as it tried to recover its rhythm. He barely noticed the sound of sneakered footsteps rounding the corner and running toward him.

"Zack!" Melissa exclaimed—and thank goodness it was her; he wasn't really in a state to take on any more normally-dressed muggers at the moment—sounding simultaneously worried for him and angry at the people who'd chased him. "That guy didn't take anything, did he? Who the heck _were_ those guys?"

"Uh..." Zack tried to answer, but nothing wanted to come out, so he just stared at the canister at his feet.

"Wait," Melissa said slowly, her bewildered stare flickering from him to the broken canister and back again, "...did you _break_ it?"

Zack groaned, looking down at the canister in defeat.

"They were all chasing me... and then there was a llama..." He motioned behind him miserably.

"Well, let's just hope that whatever it was holding wasn't important, which it almost certainly was," Melissa remarked truthfully, if unhelpfully. She frowned, putting a hand on her hip. " _Now_ I'm curious. What's in it?"

Zack blinked, realizing that he still didn't know, and opened his mouth to tell her this.

He felt a small _bzzt_ in his chest—like a tiny, magnetic tug—prompting him to look up. His eyes refocused just in time to see a towering old tree across the street tilt forward and splinter at the base, groaning and squeaking as it began to fall.

He tapped Melissa on the shoulder in warning, though she had already looked up and was staring at the oncoming tree. "Uh, incoming tree at three o'clock."

She didn't take her eyes off of it, even as it gained momentum as it groaned toward them.

"Yeah, I know," she said quietly.

Zack knew what she was thinking, because he was thinking the same thing _._

In retrospect, they spent too long staring. Moments before the tree's uppermost branches started to hit, they split up, scrambling out of the way just in time.

The tree's huge boughs bent, bouncing the trunk slightly, before its weight and entanglement around the stop sign and a nearby bench caused it to fall still.

Zack could only stare, wide-eyed, as he looked back at the tree.

"Milo?" he heard Melissa call from the other side of the fallen oak. Her head appeared over the giant trunk of the tree—which she climbed up onto to look around, frowning. "Yo, Milo! Come out with your hands up; we know you're here."

For a moment, Zack honestly expected a sheepishly-grinning Milo to step out from behind a nearby bush, scratching the back of his neck and apologizing for trying to hide. And explaining why the heck he'd been hiding—because it was just Zack and Melissa now; the bad guy hadn't followed them. Why would he hide from his friends?

But their surroundings remained quiet, and distinctly, utterly deserted. Even the wind stopped.

Even Melissa's confidence faltered at this eerie silence. She hesitantly slid down from the tree trunk and rejoined Zack where he stood.

"...Milo?"

"He's not here, is he?" Zack asked slowly, an odd feeling of dread forming in his stomach. "Then why...?"

His voice trailed off, because Melissa was staring at the canister, and something... wasn't right.

Something _definitely_ wasn't right about this canister.

"...Uh, Zack?" Melissa said, her voice hesitant. She pointed at the label that had been engraved on the side of the canister.

 _ML-01._

Zack stared at it blankly for a minute, trying to process this.

"Oh boy," he groaned. "Do you think... and when I touched it..."

Melissa only stared at the canister, a sort of sympathetic dismay in her eyes. "Probably."

"This is gonna be fun," Zack deadpanned.

* * *

 _A/N: Welcome back! This is where the fun starts. ;)_

 _I didn't even realize that when I'd posted the first chapter, I did so on the day before Columbus Day. That joke about Martin not being off work was written so many months ago that I didn't even think to check and make sure I wasn't posting it -on- Columbus Day, lol._

 _Sorry for the wait! Hopefully we'll get a good number of chapters out before the crossover airs and blows part of our plot out of the water. Hopefully the crossover won't blow part of our plot out of the water. XD We'll certainly try to stay as close to canon as possible!_

 _The next chapter will be brought to you by Cheese, who writes like he's writing an actual episode. It's so cool. Stay tuned!_


	3. Of Wolverines and Time Machines

_Detour To School_

 _Danville, USA_

 _6:48 AM_

As usual, Milo missed the bus that morning. Not that he minded. Bus? Boring! And besides, how often are you chased by a wolverine on your average school bus?

Apparently, today was the wrong day to put aromatic spices on his roast beef sandwich. The fourth wolverine that the morning had yielded growled menacingly as it prowled closer, its yellow eyes on his lunch bag.

"Shoo, you pesky _gulo luscus!_ " Milo yelled at it, waving a stick in what he hoped was a threatening manner. The agile carnivore leapt forward, then, dodging a swat from Milo's stick, jumped up and snatched the sweater-vested boy's lunch from his hand, before scampering away into the bushes.

Ah, that was no big deal. Melissa and Zack wouldn't mind sharing, and even if by some very possible coincidence they had lost their lunches to identical circumstances, he didn't mind waiting until dinner. In fact, one time, himself, his family, and a whole bunch of his mom's distant relations had fallen into a previously undiscovered Aztec pyramid, where they promptly turned the experience into an epic Yahtzee tournament lasting twenty-nine hours straight, surviving solely on a single half-eaten granola bar until they were rescued by the Mexican national guard. Now that was an adventure!

Speaking of adventures, this morning hadn't been uneventful itself. Upon waiting alone at the bus stop for ten minutes before remembering that the school buses were, in fact, all out of commission due to a previous disaster involving nacho cheese, he ran toward school... only to fall through a collapsing bridge, swim and climb through a log jam, and finally, be attacked by a consecutive series of wolverines bent on stealing his lunch. In fact, it might have been the same wolverine. It was hard to tell with the little guys.

Sighing contentedly as he carefully stepped over a loose manhole cover, he pulled out his waterproofed cell phone and typed a quick text message to Melissa, explaining why he was late.

He caught a blur of movement out of the corner of his eye. Glancing up in case it was an out-of-control soapbox derby car (one had been plenty for today), he saw a yellow-and-brown dog bounding happily to his side.

"Diogee, what are you doing here?" Milo grinned fondly as he reprimanded his dog, ruffling his ears.

"Ruff! Ruff!" said Diogee, as Diogee often did.

Milo chuckled, straightening back up.

"Silly boy. You can't come with me to school!" he reminded the dog, trying hard to put a stern expression on his face. "Go..."

 _Beeep! Beeepbeeeeeeep!_

Mid-catchphrase, Milo looked up in surprise to see a familiar three-wheeled bug with a missing headlight pass another driver in a highly illegal fashion before jumping the curb and skidding sideways to a halt in front of him, where Vinnie Dakota threw open the passenger's door.

"Kid! Get in! We'll explain on the way!" Dakota exclaimed. Just as quickly, he grinned. "I've always wanted to say that. But seriously kid, get in, we'll explain on the way."

Milo stepped backward and blinked, surprised. "Dakota? Cavendish? What are you guys doing here?"

"Along the way!" Dakota exclaimed, his oddly urgent tone returning. "Hurry! We've only got... what..."

"Fourteen seconds," supplied Balthazar Cavendish sharply from the driver's seat.

"Thirteen seconds!" Dakota relayed to Milo.

Cavendish sounded annoyed by this. "I said _fourteen!"_

"It was thirteen by the time I said that. It's probably eleven now."

"Okay!" Milo yelped, promptly ending the discussion by jumping into the back seat.

Diogee barked anxiously, following his boy until his enormous nose was in the car by Milo's feet.

"Diogee, I really need you to go home," Milo urged, one hand on the door handle. It would be rude to push poor Diogee out of the way just to shut the door...

The dog whined.

" _Seven seconds!"_ Cavendish said, stress evident in his tone.

"Go home, Diogee!" Milo pleaded, and Diogee reluctantly sped off.

"Hang on!" Cavendish slammed into reverse almost before Milo had time to shut the door all the way. The little car began lurching and screeching down the street, weaving a frightening path through the thankfully light traffic. They skidded around a corner, tires squealing. Car horns honked at them from every direction.

Milo peeled himself off the floor. "Okay, um, so what exactly..."

A light on the dashboard started flashing. "Hey Cavendish, they're tracking us," Dakota complained.

"What? How could they already—"

"Time travel, remember? We probably got away once, they found out who we were, and now they're back. It's annoying, really..."

Cavendish furiously popped off a panel next to the radio and tore out several wires. "They won't be finding us that way again. Blasted regulation vehicle locator..."

Dakota merely frowned. "Hey. If it weren't for that thing, you'd still be wandering around the parking lot."

" _What_ parking lot?"

" _Any_ parking lot."

Milo, who had just clambered back into his seat and buckled his seat belt, looked out the back window. Two sleek, ominous black cars with tinted windshields whipped into the street a block behind them. Their engines revved upon the sight of their target, and they were rapidly catching up, swerving through traffic.

Evidently, _they_ had arrived.

Dakota poked Cavendish repeatedly, not looking away from the black cars. "Yo. Can we go faster?"

Cavendish took his eyes off the road for a moment to give his partner a dissaproving glare. This is a used vehicle, not a racecar!"

"We're using it like one now," Dakota nagged.

"LET ME CONCENTRATE!"

The three were slammed to the side as Cavendish suddenly veered into a side street. One of the black armored cars whizzed past the intersection, but the other fishtailed in behind them.

Dakota turned in his seat to face Milo, looking casual.

"So. Murphy. We should probably give you the lowdown of the showdown of the hoedown of, ya know, why we are running for our lives at the moment."

Cavendish narrowed his eyes, darting and weaving into tiny spaces between cars. "When was there a hoedown involved?"

"Eh, you weren't there for that part. But the chicken fried steak was delicious." Dakota looked away and let out a slow, somewhat dramatic breath through his teeth before glancing back at Milo. "Look, kid. Someone wants to kidnap you. Not to be overly blunt."

Milo blinked. "Okay. Um. Why?"

Instead of answering the question, Dakota glanced out the window. "Trash cans," he observed.

 _BUMPBUMPWHAMCRASHCLATTER!_

Several trash bins rolled over the vehicle and down the back window, raining trash through the open skylight as they spun through the air.

"Wow," said Milo cheerily, brushing a banana peel off his shoulder. "That makes four times today!"

Cavendish muttered to himself, clicking on the windshield wipers to remove the large splatter of trash juice that had landed on the windshield. "If our suspicions are correct, a time-travelling criminal mastermind intends to use your condition as a weapon," he said gravely.

Milo had always thought of Murphy's Law as a kickstarter to adventure, a VIP thrill ride. But yes, he admitted, it was kind of destructive...

But really. How would someone use it as a _weapon_? Put him in a machine that squirted Murphy's law at people? That would be silly.

A lamp post clanged to the asphalt behind them, just in time for the other car to plow into it. Someone's window-air conditioner unit promptly crashed into the car's roof, followed by an upside-down bowl of oatmeal.

"Sorry!" came a muffled shout from a window above.

They swerved back out onto the main street... just in time to barely miss being rear-ended by the other car.

Dakota frowned, turning in his seat to look out the back window. "Aw man, they circled around."

"It's like they knew we'd be here..." Cavendish muttered dramatically, unfazed by the cacophony of car horns that blared at him as he swerved through the traffic.

Dakota shrugged. "They probably did. Time travel."

The pursuing black car lagged behind—probably because was catching the brunt of a variety of catastrophes that Murphy's Law. it was blasted with water from an exploded fire hydrant, struck by lightning from no visible storm cloud, and pelted with falling pianos, safes, and billboards.

Dakota raised his eyebrows, watching the hindered car with interest. "Oh, good, are we outrunning all the destruction? Good job, Murphy. Hit 'em with it."

The remark was blunt enough that Milo could only blink for a second.

"Um..." Milo began hesitantly, looking over his shoulder at how much their pursuers were being pummeled. Something like guilt squirmed in his stomach despite Dakota's praise. "...Thanks?"

With another turn, the other car disappeared from sight, and the passengers sighed in relief.

"Okay, kid, we're going to..." Dakota glanced outside the window at a particularly memorable café sign they were passing, and suddenly grew tense.

"...Hey, uh, kid? Stay on the right side of the vehicle."

Milo blinked, bewildered, but scooted further over like he was told. "Huh?"

"You'll thank me for it later," Dakota replied, holding tightly to the passenger handle above the door. "Anyway, we're going to take you back to the Bureau of Time Travel's headquarters to keep you safe until somebody catches our friends back there. It isn't exactly _authorized_ , but I'm sure our boss'll make an exception."

"Or else he'll yell at us," Cavendish mused.

Dakota shrugged, grinning slightly. "Yeah. Probably both."

Milo shook his head, confused. "So... we can lose those guys and then go to the future. But... why is somebody trying to get me? Who do those cars belong to?"

Dakota glanced over at Cavendish. "What's his name again? It was like, Donald Donut, or Ronald Ring, or..."

Cavendish rolled his eyes haughtily. "Morris Torus."

The younger man snapped his fingers. "That was it. Yeah, the guy's been a real pain for the Bureau. Mr. Block's even been givin' Brick and Savannah the third degree about it, and they _never_ get yelled at."

Milo wanted to ask who all these people were, but judging by the sounds of squealing tires behind them, this probably wasn't the best time. "Wow. What did he do?"

Dakota glanced at Milo and shrugged apologetically. "No idea. Nobody tells us that stuff. But there's rules for how you're supposed to time travel, so they can keep track of you on radar. Apparently this guy's been breaking them. Doesn't show up on any of the Bureau's radars. We never see him in the Timestream, either."

"We never see _anyone_ in the timestream half the time."

Dakota waved this off. "Yeah, yeah. So the Bureau's thinkin' that maybe he's got a way to cloak his time vehicles somehow. The guy's apparently pretty good with—" He glanced at a monitor on the dashboard, then over at his partner. "—Cavendish, they're tracking us again."

"What? Impossible! I shut down all our broadcasting systems, they shouldn't be able to—"

Dakota, who up until this second had been eying Cavendish like he was a wriggling fish he was preparing to grab, lunged and heaved the flabbergasted British gentleman across the console.

"Dakota! What on earth—"

Milo saw it happen in slow-motion. There was a blast of blue light, a looming black shape plowed into their car from the side, and Milo barely had time to grab onto the door handle before the vehicle and its passengers were hurled mercilessly through the air, the bug rolling and landing with a crunch on its roof. Dangling from his seat belt, Milo shook off the daze of the collision to see that the entire left side of the car, including the driver's seat where Cavendish had been only seconds before, was caved in from the impact.

But luckily, due to the incredible durability that is the gift of cartoon characters, none of them seemed to be hurt: Dakota's glasses were askew, Cavendish's top hat was bent, and Milo had a faded pound sign representing a scuff on his cheek, but the trio was otherwise unscathed.

The three stared out the windshield in horror as a black car cruised up casually in front of them, the door swung open, and an ordinary-looking young man wearing a backpack smiled cheerfully down at his handiwork, taking a step toward the wreck.

"Come out with your hands up," he said calmly.

Milo gulped.

 **A/N:**

 **WOOOOOOOO**

 ***Bluebirds and Cheese go off a ski jump riding on a rocket-propelled tandem bicycle***

 ***while wearing sunglasses***

 **That's right, folks. We're back. After several millenia of procrastination, the two of us have reunited our authorly powers to accomplish the impossible: _actually post chapter three!_**

 **So yeah! Expect faster updates and hopefully less confusing writing in the future! And as always, thanks for reading! A Matter of Time is still on!**

 **-Da Cheese**


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